The Sigh Of Angels
by cartoonheart94
Summary: She lost her best friend...he lost his father...she lost her only son... Three grieving souls, three different stories, three different worlds, will they ever find solace? rated m due to references of violence
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The Angels Weep

(**A/N: This story contains a lot of scenes of a sensitive nature due to the nature of the story. I've 'growed-up' Roxanne to ten years older than she would have been at this time, making the events of the Battle of Hogwarts and the events of HP to ten years before they happened. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone.**)

_Tuesday, Sept 11, 2001_

_Hogwarts, Scotland, 09:30am_

The large group of second years poured into the Muggle studies classroom as the sixth years were leaving. It was quite daunting having to brush shoulders with older students and Roxanne caught Teddy Lupin's gaze, he was one of the few sixth years that had decided to go on with the course, he winked at her and embarrassed by that, Roxanne quickly ducked her head and she found her best friend's hand as they tried to inconspicuously find a seat where they could not be noticed.

Once the class had settled, their professor quickly erased the board and faced her class with a large smile. "Goodmorning class," she said brightly, "as you may all remember, last week, I said we were all going to do something fun this week!" she turned to write the topic on the board.

While her back was turned, Afia nudged Roxanne, "What do you think she's up to this time?"

Roxanne shrugged. Professor Minnie Mitchell was not your conventional Hogwarts professor, first off, she did not wear the usual black robes all the professors wore, instead, she wore this multicoloured cloak, brown boots and had her hair dyed bright orange. This had been her second year as a professor at Hogwarts and Roxanne remembered the previous year when her uncle Ron was talking about the outrage at the Ministry when they heard that for the first time in Hogwarts history, a muggle had been asked to come and teach Muggle Studies, some pureblood parents even had their children stop taking her classes.

"Okay!" Professor Mitchell said as she turned to face her class once more, "you can now read what I have written!"

Roxanne felt the corners of her mouth curl upwards as she read what was written in the board: "TRIP TO NEW YORK CITY". There were gasps and sighs from the rest of the class as they read what had been written.

"Yes, I talked Professor McGonagall about the trip and she gave us the okay, your parents were informed as well and luckily, all of them consented," Mitchell said, "but there is a catch."

"Huh?" Afia whispered.

"Well," Mitchell continued, "we have been given the opportunity to go out to this city and study their everyday muggle lives for a day. But since there are so many of you, we can't go all at once, so it was decided that one group goes today and another goes after the Halloween ball."

"But that's next month!" Gabriel Nott protested.

"It's all I could afford to ask for; I'm already cutting into your lesson time for other subjects by taking you."

"So how are you going to choose?" Nott asked.

"Just wait and see," she replied as she ducked under the desk and pulled out a large ball with tiny little balls in it.

"Yeah, um, what is that?" Nott asked.

"We are going to do something like a lottery." Mitchell explained, "In this ball are 40 balls, 20 have the number one on them and the other 20 have the number two on them. There are thirty eight of you here so each one will have a fair chance of going today, those that get the number two are going to have to go after Halloween. Now, in a straight file, I would like you all to come and each get a ball." They all went and picked a ball each and returned to their seats. "Now, look at the number on your balls."

Roxanne looked down and beamed at the sight of the number one in her hands, looking to her left, she saw a downcast Afia holding a number 2.

"It's okay," Roxanne whispered.

"Yeah, I guess," Afia said sullenly, "it's just that, I really wanted to go today, all those who go today will come back talking about it and I'll have to wait a whole month and a half to go."

Roxanne sighed, she knew she was going to regret this but she went on with it anyway, "Here, switch with me." she whispered.

"But-" Afia started to protest but was cut off.

"But shut up and give me your ball, Mitchell won't notice, anyway, she's still taking names at the first row."

Afia sighed and made the exchange with Roxanne, "Thanks." She smiled.

"What are friends for?" Roxanne replied.

After Professor Mitchell had gone round the class and taken the names of all those that had the number one on their balls, she looked up and said, "Alright, I will go and give these to professor McGonagall, and we soon will be good to go."

"How soon is soon?" Nott, who had taken the number one, asked. "And how are we going to get there?"

"We will be using the Floo network from the headmistress' office." Came the reply, "We should be able to leave in about two hours Mr. Nott, now be patient."

_Manhattan, New York, 05:30 am_

Maria Shannon looked at her bedside watch; it was not even six yet. She slowly got out of bed and looked out of her window, she could see a few cars on her street, and a girl jogged past, but that was it. Anyway, it's not like anyone would be awake at that time in her neighbourhood, those were the luxuries that came with being rich. There was no reason to wake up at ungodly hours to do whatever, as it was always done for you and besides, the important things in the world of a woman like Maria were lunch dates with the girls from the book club, shopping and throwing benefits for charities she only just got introduced to yesterday.

But today was different, today Maria Shannon was going to make the most important decision of her life. The negotiations had been going on for some time now and today was the day that Shannon Construction Company was going to merge with a Chinese construction company of the same magnitude and together, Maria knew that the company to be formed would become a world super power. She herself had gone to none of the previous meetings and had her son delegate for her, and today, she was finally going to meet Mr. Chung. Normally, Maria was never nervous about business deals but this was a big merger, besides, what would Mr. Chung think of a fifty eight year old woman who only just took over the company from her late husband? Truth be told, even though she was a talented business woman with an eye for economic trends, Maria Shannon had no formal education in that field. Just a simple waitress who got married to a rich man, Maria was much unlearned, but she would never let anyone know that.

She slowly made her way downstairs to the kitchen and found Philip at the kitchen table. He must have stayed the night here as this was closer to work than his home in New Jersey.

"Philip?"

"Oh, good morning mother," Philip replied, "I decided to spend the night, but don't worry, I called Greta, she knows I'm here."

"Philip, what are you doing up so early?" she asked.

"I've been thinking mother," Philip replied.

"What about?"

"Well, about the big merger this morning."

"Are you having second thoughts?" Maria asked.

Philip shook his head, "Mother, I was thinking, what if I went there instead of you? Not to offend you mother but I think they will be more comfortable dealing with someone they've already met."

"I see," Maria observed, "then why don't we do this together?"

"Mother, you have to trust me on this one. I have noticed that you have been quite nervous about this deal and we can't afford to have any mistakes."

"Excuse me?"

Philip reached for her hands, "You are the strongest, most confident woman I ever knew, but we both know that I will have to take over the company one day. And if you don't trust me to make decisions like this now, when will you ever trust me?"

Maria nodded, it was true, she was growing old and sooner or later, Philip was going to be left to run the company on his own. In all honesty, he had been running the company for quite some time now, and this was his time to prove himself, with a sigh, she said, "Okay, you can go."

Philip smiled and planted a kiss on his mother's cheek, "Thanks mother." He whispered.

_Harlem, New York, 05:50 am_

Behrooz Ali fidgeted in his bed as he heard the usual shuffling around the house that came around this time. It was his father preparing for work, the postal company he worked for demanded he show up by seven and since it was all the way on the other side of town, his father always had to get up this early. Being the hyper-active seven year old he was, he quickly jumped out of bed and crept out of his room. Making sure he was not seen, he tip-toed behind his father until just the right moment before finally pouncing on him.

"Oh! Who's this little monster?" Syed mock-growled as he playfully rolled his son on the floor and tickled him.

Behrooz was in a fit of laughter when his mother emerged from their bedroom door. "Behrooz, now what did I tell you about bothering father when he is preparing for work?" she asked sternly.

"Oh come on Amira, let's live a little!" Syed laughed as he slung his son over his shoulder.

"I just don't want you getting late," Amira replied, "its bad enough that your new boss doesn't like you already."

Syed smiled as he handed Behrooz over to his mother, "Okay," he said, "here you go, he's all yours."

Amira smiled lovingly at her husband as he disappeared into the bathroom. The Ali's had moved to New York from England about ten years ago when they first got married, in the beginning, it was difficult for them because Syed had no permanent job and had to do various odd jobs for them to survive. But five years ago, he managed to land himself a job at a postal service company and as the years went by, he was promoted to assistant manager and was making enough money to support his family. Amira had started giving violin lessons to children and was also making some extra money so if truth was told, the Ali's were quite a happy family, and despite the occasional minor setbacks, they always managed to pull through.

Amira lifted Behrooz so he was face to face with her, "You, young man have to go back to bed. We don't want you dozing in class again today do we?"

"But mom!" Behrooz protested.

"But nothing! Go! Now!" she said as she playfully slapped his bottom as he scurried to his room.

Once in his room, Behrooz got his plane models and started to fly them around. He had always adored pilots and wanted to be one himself, so pretending he was flying a large plane across the Atlantic ocean, he zoomed across the room making a very loud buzzing noise and it was not long before his mother's head poked through the door.

"Behrooz Ali!" she yell-whispered.

"But-"

"Bed! Now!" she said as she air-lifted him into his bed, "you'll thank me for this one day," she said silently.

"Mother," Behrooz called.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I can be a pilot?"

"Behrooz darling, you can be anything you want to be."

"Really?"

"Really."

Behrooz smiled as he planted a kiss on his mother's cheek, she got up and closed the door behind her.

_4 HOURS LATER_

Roxanne slowly walked out of the library, she had not bothered to go for lunch since Afia had left about two hours ago and because classes had been cancelled for the second years, Roxanne decided to go to the owlery to see if she had mail. On her way to the owlery, she was stopped by a loud gasp from one of the portraits; they always conversed among themselves but never this loud. Slowing her pace, she inched towards them so as to get a clear shot at what they were saying.

"... and I heard that that muggle Professor had taken them there, today of all days." One of the men was saying.

"I always knew it was a terrible idea on the school's part to bring that teacher here," another with a deep gruff voice said, "She was nothing but trouble!"

"Don't say that Anton," a woman interjected, "who could have seen it coming?"

Who could have seen what coming? Roxanne wondered, changing her route, she quickly made her way to the Gryffindor common room, if anyone was going to know something about this whole thing, it was the Fat Lady.

The Fat Lady was dabbing away some tears by the time Roxanne got there, "Oh, you're here!" she said gratefully as she saw Roxanne.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, you poor things," the Fat Lady said, and without asking for the password, she swung open and let her in.

The common room was fuller than usual and everyone was huddled in silence, some people were crying and Roxanne tentatively walked across the room. At her sight, Molly and Victoire ran up to her and engulfed her in hugs and sighs of relief.

"What's happening?" Roxanne was beginning to get that panicky feeling she got when she knew that something was terribly wrong.

"You didn't go, oh Merlin you're alright!" Molly was saying.

"Huh?"

"They are dead, all of them," Victoire said in a hushed tone, her voice sounding like she was going to cry any moment, "the building, the American ministry...New York... the second years." Her words did not make any sense but they all came together perfectly in Roxanne's head. She felt her legs slowly turn to jelly as she sank to the floor and curled up in the foetal position right there.

"Roxy, are you okay?" she heard a far away voice ask her.

Roxanne felt like she was drowning, her chest became tighter and tighter until a blood curdling scream escaped her mouth. Afia was gone, she was never coming back, and it was all her fault.

"Your breakfast is ready ma'am," Clara, the house maid said to Maria as she eased the trolley into her room.

"Just set it down there, will you?" Maria replied as she got out of her covers. After her talk with Philip earlier in the morning, she had gone back to bed, but sleep had not come to her at all as she spent the whole time wondering whether she had made the right choice to go through with this deal and whether it was wise to let Philip go on his own.

"Turn on the TV Clara," she said, the middle aged Jamaican woman going to flick the screen on, "Thankyou," she said as Clara left the room.

Maria glanced at her watch, it was quarter to nine, the documentary she was watching was instantly interrupted when she saw a reporter saying something about urgent message. The camera switched to the world trade centre building, one of them was on fire, the reporter saying something about investigations suggesting that the plane lost control and rammed into the building, there were people screaming everywhere and Maria dropped the remote and started to look for her diary hastily. In there, she heaved a sigh of relief when she read that the meeting scheduled with the Chinese company was in the South Tower. The reporter said the north tower was the one hit so that meant that Philip was alright wasn't he? Maria instinctively reached for her rosary at her neck and started to pray silently, something she had not done in years. _Philip is okay, Philip is okay_ it played in her head like a mantra. A loud whooshing noise woke her from her mantra as she looked at the screen to see what it was. Like everything was in slow motion, Maria looked in horror as a second plane dove through the sky and buried its nose right in the centre of the South Tower, the place Philip was in, she looked at the page with the appointment on it, it read:

_September 11__th__, 2001_

_Meeting with Chung Construction Co_

_South Tower, 15__th__ floor_

_09:00am_

Everything else was fuzzy in Maria's mind, she tore out the piece of paper and held on to it like it was the last thing that kept her harnessed to sanity. Somewhere on the TV, some reporter was saying it had been confirmed that it was a terrorist attack and that damage control was being sent into the building. The room around Maria was spinning, she held on to the breakfast trolley Clara had brought in and tried to use it for support, the breathing got difficult and she could feel her heart pounding in her head as she struggled to walk to the door and call Clara for help, the wheels on the trolley had her lose her balance and the last thing Maria remembered seeing was the bejewelled ceiling fan before everything went black.

"Okay everybody turn your books to page 71," Miss Gonzales said to the class of second graders in front of her.

Behrooz smiled as he turned the pages to where his teacher had told him. He liked Miss Gonzales and he liked doing things that pleased her. To him, she was the nicest teacher in the world, she had the prettiest smile and her dark hair which came up to her shoulders reminded him of his mother. She always gave him gold stars and his always seemed to shine brighter than all his friends'.

"Okay, so who can tell me how many times three can go into nine?"

Behrooz's hand was the first to shoot up.

"Yes Behrooz?" she asked kindly.

"Three," he said confidently. Behrooz was naturally good at maths and he loved looking over his father's shoulder when he would be calculating their bills.

"Very good," she said, "now, would anyone else tell me how many times three can be multiplied to make nine?"

No one raise their hands.

"I don't know," Dennis Sutherland replied when Miss Gonzales looked at him for an answer.

"How about you Mandy?" she asked.

Mandy Clark shook her head violently, causing her tiny blonde curls to bob up and down.

"Keyana?" Miss Gonzales asked, Keyana simply shrugged.

"Behrooz?"

Behrooz shrugged and shook his head, this one was really tricky. Miss Gonzales smiled kindly, and went on to explain the connection between multiplication and division when Mrs Byrne, the teacher of the other second grade class walked in. She hastily said something in a hushed tone to Miss Gonzales and with one wary look at Behrooz, which he couldn't understand, she left the classroom.

"Okay class, copy the questions on page 72 into your workbooks, I'll be right back," Miss Gonzales said, "Keyana, you be the class monitor while I'm gone." And with that, she left.

Behrooz turned the page of his book as Keyana strutted to the front of the class and sat in Miss Gonzales' chair.

A few minutes later, Miss Gonzales came back to the classroom, she looked really worried, "Okay, children, today we are going to leave school early, your parents have been called and they will be waiting for you at your school bus stations, now in a straight line, please head to the car park."

Behrooz packed his bag and walked behind Ming Lee. He, Ming and Keyana all lived in the same neighbourhood and so were all good friends. The hallways were filled with students and it was not easy for a small boy to make his way out of there. Once they were outside, Behrooz saw that all the big yellow buses had been lined up back to back waiting for students to get on.

"Trash!" Behrooz heard someone hiss as he walked towards the bus.

"Oh look, my mom's here!" Keyana said as she pointed to a tiny green car, "would you like a ride?"

Behrooz shook his head, "No, I'm sure my father will be waiting for me at the station, thanks anyway."

Keyana smiled and waved as she jogged towards her mother's car, Behrooz stood waited in line and before he went back into the bus, Keyana was back.

"My ma said your mom asked if she could pick you up as well, she says your dad was stuck at work," she said smiling.

Behrooz nodded and quickly waved to Ming, whose father was there to collect him.

"Hello Behrooz," Keyana's mother said as Behrooz and Keyana got into the back seat.

"Hello Mrs. Shacklebolt," Behrooz replied with a small smile, her British accent always made him laugh.

Mrs. Shacklebolt turned on the stereo and off they went, looking out of his window, Behrooz noticed that there was a lot of traffic in the opposite direction and many people looked very upset. "What's going on?" he asked.

Mrs. Shacklebolt merely shook her head, "The important thing is that we get home safely," she said quietly as she wove through the little streets that led to home. Normally, Grove Street was swarming with children playing left right and centre, but today, one could swear it was a ghost town. Mrs. Shacklebolt parked the car and out hopped the children.

"Keyana, get inside," she said to a pouting Keyana who was about to start playing hopscotch near the stroop.

"Thankyou for the ride Mrs. Shacklebolt," Behrooz said as he started to walk home.

"Uh, Behrooz," Mrs. Shacklebolt said softly, "Your mother asked if you could spend the night with us, just for today, she had somewhere to go," there was some sort of sad pity in her eyes.

Behrooz nodded and climbed the stairs to the Shacklebolt's apartment complex. Behrooz had been inside Keyana's house many times, it was different from theirs, there were alot of little things Behrooz could not place and on many an occasion, he spotted Mrs. Shacklebolt waving around a stick.

"Do you want to come and play video games in my room?" Keyana asked. Behrooz nodded and followed her.

After some gruelling minutes of super Mario, Keyana turned to Behrooz, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Do you want to see something really cool?" she asked.

"Yeah," Behrooz replied, he was still dazed and confused about all that was going on, Keyana scrambled to her feet and went to get a notebook.

"Okay, but you must promise never to tell anyone," she whispered, Behrooz eagerly nodded, she placed the book on the pink carpeted floor and looked at it, a few moments later, the pages started to flip by themselves, Behrooz gasped, then, slowly, the book began to levitate.

"Okay stop!" Behrooz said, "You're scaring me!"

"Wha-why?" Keyana asked, "My ma says its normal for a young witch to have her powers showing up still young."

With every word that came out of her mouth, Behrooz's eyebrows Rose further and further up his head, "But it's not normal," he replied.

"Is to! My grandpa is the minister of magic in London!" Keyana pouted.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you're my best friend." Keyana replied simply, "but you must promise never to tell anyone, my ma says people like us are not accepted by muggles."

"What's a muggle?"

"Someone who has no magical blood in them." Keyana spoke the words like an expert.

Behrooz shook his head, for a seven year old, that was really easy to believe, but hard to fully take in, "I want some milk," he said quietly.

"Let's go to the kitchen," Keyana grabbed his hand and led him to the small kitchen, Mrs. Shacklebolt was mixing a salad.

"What are you two little monsters up to?" she asked as Keyana got two cups from the cupboard.

"We are getting milk ma," Keyana replied, "and, I also told Behrooz about grandpa's job."

At those words, Mrs. Shacklebolt's spoon dropped to the floor, "Keyana, you didn't..." she whispered.

"Don't worry, I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," Behrooz said.

Mrs. Shacklebolt looked at Behrooz for some time, it felt like someone was poking something in his head, then, a few moments later, she sighed and said, "Okay, now, get your milk and go back and play. I need to fix your dinner."

Behrooz grabbed a cup from Keyana and sat down to drink it, his gaze reverted to the TV where there was a reporter talking about some attack of some sort. Then, they showed a plane going into a building, then they showed ambulances and firemen and crying people, then the TV was clicked off.

"Okay, that's enough telly for everyone," Mrs. Shacklebolt laughed nervously, "Now head off to your room, both of you!"

The two did not need to be told twice, once in Keyana's room, Behrooz asked what all that was about.

"I don't know," Keyana replied.

Behrooz looked out of his window, the sun was setting and the sky was a bloody red.

"It's because the angels are weeping for all our sins," Behrooz's mother always told him when he asked.

Behrooz sighed, there was something wrong, he knew it. And the angels wept that day.

(**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I just hope that it was not too long. Stay tuned!**)


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: maybe there's a god above, but all I ever learned from love, was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

CHAPTER TWO

Second Fiddle

(A/N: I own nothing Harry Potter, only the original characters. Also, the song used in this chapter belongs to Adele and those involved in the writing, not me. So, enjoy! )

(Ten Years Later)

Roxanne was in her bathroom, gazing at her reflection in the mirror, her hair had been teased and tamed for the big day, and it was held tightly in an up-do on the top if her head. She had been like that for nearly a half hour when suddenly, she dipped her head in the water she had put in the sink, ruining her hair.

'What's the use?' she thought, 'I'll always play second fiddle anyway.'

"Roxanne," she could hear her mother's voice down the hallway, she heard the footsteps as she entered her room and came into the bathroom.

Angelina Johnson-Weasley looked in horror at her daughter's ruined hair, it had already started going frizzy and curling up a big puffy ball.

"Do you want to explain this?" Angelina asked calmly.

Roxanne dumbly shook her head, "No."

"We have five minutes to go to the Burrow, and the charm I put on your hair takes thirty minutes," her mother scolded.

"Who says I'm going?" Roxanne shrugged.

At this, Angelina's brows furrowed in annoyance as she took a step towards her daughter, who had her chin stubbornly stuck out, a trait she had inherited from her mother, "Roxanne Alicia Weasley, today is your cousin's wedding, and whatever differences you two may have should be cast aside for later because this is a family event and I will not have you ruining it."

"Like the fact that she happens to be marrying the man she stole from me?"

"Now honey, no one stole anyone from anyone," Angelina felt like she was speaking to a five year old whose toy had been taken from her, "you and Teddy Lupin did have a great time together but people fall in love, and that's what happened between him and Victoire."

"As if she didn't have a little help," Roxanne muttered bitterly.

"Don't you even start about that," Angelina was slowly losing her patience, "her Veela blood has nothing to do with this, we've already talked about it."

George stepped into the bathroom, "Hello ladies aren't we... sweet Merlin Roxy honey what happened to your head?" he asked comically.

Roxanne rolled her eyes at her father, he always was the joker, Angelina turned to her husband, "Girl stuff honey, we'll be out in a minute."

"We're supposed to be leaving now."

"We'll be there soon, make sure the wards are set, and make sure you sent those robes to Madam Malkin's, also don't forget to tell the Bradshaws that we will be gone for the weekend and-"

"Are you sure you don't want to write that all down?" George asked with a cocky smile.

Angelina playfully slapped his hand, "Just go," she said as she gave him a kiss. Roxanne sighed, why couldn't she be as lucky as her parents, instead, she always fells for the biggest arses and the only decent person she ever fell for was marrying her cousin today. Life really did blow for her.

Once they were alone once more, Angelina smiled at her daughter, "Let's just go to the wedding honey, who knows, maybe you may find someone there."

"No way am I being set up again. I already have had enough of that from Grandma Molly and Granny Marie," she mumbled.

"Well, let me tell you this sweetheart," Angelina said gently, "whether you go or not, they are still gonna get married."

The words stung, but they were true, Teddy and Victoire were still going to wed whether or not she showed up, it's not like she was the priest that was marrying them. Her mother was right, but Roxanne was not going to let her know.

"So?" she retorted, "At least I won't be able to see it."

Angelina sighed exasperatedly at her daughter, why couldn't she have been more like her father? No, Fred was the one that ended up inheriting his father's easy going, patient happy-go-lucky personality while Angelina ended up passing on her adamant, stubborn, fiery, short-fused personality to her daughter.

"I think you will," Angelina said, "during family events, when they have children, whenever they come visiting, honey, unless you are going to find a rock you are going to hide under for the rest of your life, you had better grow up and do the adult thing by going to this wedding."

Roxanne huffed, she knew there was no escaping this; she could easily talk her way around her father, but her mother, now that was another story, the woman always knew what she was going to say next!

"But what about my hair?" she asked helplessly.

"I have a good mind to let you go like this," Angelina said, "but if we work together, I think we can make this work."

Both raising their wands, they waved it around her thick bushy hair and in ten minutes, they managed to have it tamed. Roxanne quickly tied it in a simple ponytail, knowing that there was no time to start doing anything fancy.

"Ready?" her mother asked, she knew that her mother was not asking about going.

She feverishly nodded, "But if it gets stuffy, I'm leaving!" she said.

They walked to the apparition point and swiftly turned on the spot, apparating to the Burrow.

"Oh there you are!" Molly Weasley said as she went up to greet them, her lovely buff robes swishing behind her as she walked, "I was afraid you would not make it in time for the portkey!"

"Well, here we are!" Angelina said brightly as her mother in law hugged her.

"And my dear Roxanne, finally I get to see you after six months!" she said as she engulfed her granddaughter in a gigantic hug, "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me!"

Roxanne smiled uneasily, she had been avoiding her, Roxanne loved her grandmother, but she really needed to relax with the whole setting-her-up-with-every-male-with-a-N.E.W.T-level-qualifiaction.

"What!" Roxanne laughed, "that's crazy grandma! I've been busy with work that's all!"

"Hmm, working for Malfoy," Mrs Weasley said darkly.

"It's not that bad Gran," Roxanne laughed, "I promise."

"Okay, come on in," the older Weasley pulled her granddaughter in the house.

Roxanne looked around, the whole entire Potter-Weasley family, together with Andromeda Tonks were in the sitting room. The younger ones must have gotten night passes from Hogwarts to attend this as it was the start of the new school year and under normal circumstances they would not have been here.

Everyone was huddled in their little groups, Molly and Lucy as usual, Albus and Rose, Hugo was trying to speak to Lily, who was too busy checking her makeup, Roxanne laughed at this, she shifted her glasses closer to her face and looked for where to sit, she decided standing was her best option as she leaned against the banister. Louis and Dominique were probably already at the venue as they were part of the bridal party.

Roxanne remembered fondly when she and Victoire were still on speaking terms, they were their own little pair, after Afia died that day, the two became closer, with only a year between them, they were as thick as thieves, but that had all changed now, when Teddy came along and reshuffled the deck.

"Oi, Roxy wanna see something cool?" James asked. Roxanne was startled as she had not seen him coming, this was because he had just popped up next to her.

"What?" she asked, not even bothering to sound enthusiastic.

"Here," James showed her a pink flower.

"What is it?"

"It's an aphrodisiac, wear this behind your ear and you will be the most irresistible belle of the ball," James said in a sing-song voice.

"Get away from me," Roxanne growled.

"Well, I can't say I didn't try," James shrugged.

"You have until the count of three, if you are still here, this wedding will become a funeral," Roxanne hissed.

"I think it's time I left," James laughed in mock fear, and with that, he dissaparated from where he had been standing beside her.

Just then, Hermione walked in, "Portkey's here!" she said.

Everyone got up from where they were and went to the garden. The portkey was an old bucket that sat in the middle of the garden, everybody put their fingers on and the thing shone a silvery blue before transporting them to France.

"Nice place," was the first thing Roxanne heard as they materialised on a small cobble-stoned alleyway.

"Of course it's going to be nice Al!" she could hear Rose's voice, "We're in St. Paul de Vence, one of the most romantic places in the world," Rose said whimsically.

"Come on people, the church is this way," Mrs Weasley said as she led the group of people around the little alleyways.

Angelina slipped a hand through her daughter's, and together, they walked into the ancient church.

The church was beautiful, the old, ivy covered stone walls adorned with stained glass and the wooden benches were strewn with lilies and orchids. The silence was almost heavenly; the only sound came from the harps that played themselves above them.

Roxanne followed her mother to the row that was placed for the Weasley family, which was on the left side of the church, discreetly glancing to her right, she saw the Delacours and the rest of their relatives. All blonde, all beautiful, men and women alike, they had their heads held high and their heavily lashed blue eyes all identical and they all wore soft blue robes with gold trimming, they looked unreal, sort of like clones, or porcelain dolls. Roxanne felt uncomfortable staring and averted her gaze to her more unorganised family, which was a sea of red hair with the exception of six people; herself, Fred, her mother, Harry, James, Albus and Hermione.

James appeared to have been in a hushed argument with his mother and in the end got up and walked out of the church, a short while later, the church doors opened and in walked Teddy, he was wearing black robes and had his hair shining jet black, his eyes shone green, resembling Harry and behind him was Julio Zabini, his best mate and also best man, and after that came Louis, a cousin of Victoire's that Roxanne did not know and finally a harassed looking James who had managed to change into bridal robes during that short interval.

The men got to the front of the church and stood there, "Wow, they look like a bunch of penguins," Fred whispered in her ear, "Poor James." Roxanne had to bite her lip not to laugh. Sometimes, she did enjoy having him around.

A short while later, there was seraphim-like singing from a source unseen as the doors opened once more. The people in the church began to stand and Roxanne mechanically followed suit, looking over her shoulder, Roxanne saw the bridesmaids begin to waltz in, first in was Dominique, then came two cousins she did not know and finally Jolie, one of Victoire's friends, they all wore soft peach robes that went flawlessly with their perfect skin and hair. Then she saw her Uncle Bill, on his hand was Victoire, she looked so beautiful it hurt. Her hair was in a French braid, with a crown of flowers adorning the top of her head, she had a small bouquet and it was hard to tell where on her body her beautiful ivory gown started from as it looked like it just flowed from her like it was a part of her, starting slim at the top and flowing out in a spectacular organza around her legs. She looked beautiful, like a perfect piece of art, like she was one of the beautiful statues Roxanne had seen in the streets brought to life.

Roxanne turned to look at Teddy, his eyes were glued to his bride. _His bride._ There it was, Roxanne saw it, the love and adoration, he would never look at her like that again, and it gutted her like a fish.

The service was short, much to Roxanne's liking, and soon, the whole party was making their way to the reception, which was at the Delacour family palace. Once there, everyone was too busy having fun and socialising to notice a tall, bespectacled girl wearing the buff robes her mother forced on her quickly sneak out and go into the muggle village.

Roxanne walked into the first bar she came across and ordered a beer, she was glad she let Victoire get her acquainted with the French dialect of this village or she would have never known what the barman was saying.

Roxanne barely put the drink to her mouth when the doors to the pub opened and in walked her father, his bow tie skewered to one side. "Would you care to explain what this is all about?" he asked, a serious expression on his face, which was a rarity for George Weasley, so Roxanne knew that whatever she had done was very bad.

"Just having a drink dad, that's all," she replied, trying to sound casual.

"Just having a drink," George repeated, "I'll have one too, and maybe we could talk over the drink yeah?" he gestured to the barman and ordered his drink.

"You're missing a great wedding, grandma won't like it," she said.

"When did I ever listen to your grandmother?" George asked, when his daughter raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed and said, "Okay, so I do, but the point is, why are you not there?"

"I told you, I just came to get a drink."

"You know darling, you had been acting quite weird ever since you came down from Belfast for the wedding, at first I thought you might have been pregnant," Roxanne choked on her drink, her father continued, "but I talked to your mother a few minutes earlier and she told me everything."

"Oh no," Roxanne groaned.

"Hey! Nothing to be ashamed of," George replied, "but it's not what I came here to discuss." He sipped his whiskey.

"Then why are you here?" she asked.

"To spend time with my favourite daughter," George replied.

"I'm your only daughter."

"Don't be so sure," George whispered.

"Yeah, I'm definitely sharing that one with mom later on," she mock-laughed.

George put his drink down, "Your mother and I were talking," he said gravely.

"What about?" she asked innocently.

"About when you'll start to live your life right." He said bluntly.

"What?"

"Roxanne, you're twenty three years old, that's way older than I was when I made my first million, but that's not the point," he said quickly, "The point is why a smart girl like you chooses to have a meagre job like that, and working for Malfoy?"

"Mum put you up to this didn't she?" Roxanne asked.

"No, the both of us feel the same way," George replied, "you are not decided with your life, first you decided to play pro-Quidditch, which lasted only six months, then you went into auror training, which you did really well and of all things, you quit a promising career as an auror to go and work as a snob's assistant."

"But I'm happy," Roxanne lied unconvincingly.

"No, I think you've been trying to avoid this family, and you knew that the only way you wouldn't get to see us is if you got a job with the enemy."

"Mr. Malfoy is not the enemy dad, he's quite okay if you get to know him," Roxanne countered.

"Do you hear yourself? You sound like your uncle Percy when he was still a ministry prat." George said incredulously.

"So then, what do you want me to do, just quit my job and go and work for the auror office?" Roxanne asked, "Hasn't it ever crossed your mind that maybe this is what I want to be?"

"Roxy, among all your cousins, you were the most ambitious, and everybody knows that this is not what you ever planned to do. Am I lying when I say it does cross your mind that you are not happy with what you are doing?"

Roxanne did not reply, George continued, "Well then, continue wasting your life away, just know that things don't stay the same forever."

"Well, maybe it's because I feel like I've always got something to prove whenever I'm with the whole family," Roxanne blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Huh?" George asked.

"Maybe I like to stay far away because everytime I come around, it feels like I'm being scrutinised by everyone, it's almost like everybody is playing a comparison game between Victoire and I and I can't stand it."

It was George's turn to be speechless, Roxanne continued, "I see the sad stares I get from everyone, it's like they're saying, 'Oh, look at you two, you grew up together, went to the same school, got the same grades but look at your cousin, she has her own fashion line that's kicking arse and oh look! Now she's married, but look at you, sad old, underachieving spinster, you were cut from the same cloth, so what do you have to show for it?'" Roxanne took a long swig from her bottle, "So maybe I don't bother because I know that no matter how hard I try, I'll always come second to her."

"So this is what it's all about, you're jealous," George said quietly, "your mother had told me about Teddy but I did not know that this had stretched this far, Roxy, you two are two different people, yes you may be related but that does not make you clones."

"Try telling that to grandma," Roxanne replied in her bottle.

George took a deep breath, he shouldn't have let Angelina talk him into giving his daughter this lecture, because now he did not know what to say, taking a sip from his glass, he said, "Harry said there is an opening at the auror office, you can talk to him if you're interested," he gave her a pat on the back, paid for his drink and left to attend the rest of the wedding.

After her father left, Roxanne took out her diary from her robes pocket, in it, she scrawled:

_Saturday, 10__th__ September 2011,_

_Maybe it's time I moved on._

She pocketed the tiny red book and drank the remaining beer, as she was ordering another drink, a song started to play on the muggle stereo that was in the bar, she was sure she had heard the song from somewhere but was not sure, she closed her eyes and listened.

_I heard that you're settled down_

_That you found a girl and you're married now_

_I heard that your dreams came true_

_Guess she gave you things I couldn't give to you..._

Roxanne smiled sadly as she made a mental note to go and see Harry about the auror job on Monday. Maybe it was what she needed, who was she kidding? It was exactly what she needed.

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I will be writing a separate chapter for each principle character, so the next chapter will focus on Maria ten years after the fated event. Please keep reading.)


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Ave Maria

The auctioneer's gavel pounded loudly in the elegant room as he boomed, "And the painting is sold to Mr Kipling."

There was polite clapping and Maria joined in as the red faced man waved for the next item to be brought forward. She was at a charity auction for children that had been orphaned due to the 9/11 attacks. This was what Maria had become, after her son's death, after her first heart attack that morning, she had dedicated herself to attending, organising and joining benefits that aided 9/11 related relief funds. She idly watched the next item be bid on as she absent mindedly fiddled with her white gloves, today marked ten years since all that happened but she could still remember it like it was yesterday. The item on display was quickly sold and on came another, Maria did not even bother to see what it was, she was already going to give money to this function whether or not she bought anything, instead, she thought of what time she would go and visit Philip's memorial at the cemetery.

"Do I hear 100,000?" the auctioneer's voice startled her from her thoughts, Maria mechanically raised her paddle and the man boomed, "Sold! To Mrs. Shannon for one hundred thousand dollars." And with that, he banged his gavel.

Maria looked up to see exactly what she had bought, it was a golden urn with some black embroidery, at least it was pretty, the last time she bid on something without looking, she ended up with a crooked spoon they claimed belonged to President Lincoln.

"Maria!" a voice in her ear roused her from her thoughts once more, she looked to her side and saw one of her friends, Mercedes looking at her, "the auction is done, we can go now." Her friends bright blue eyes shone too brightly for Maria's liking, she knew it was not fair to think that because she had been like that their whole lives of knowing each other, but today, nothing was right in Maria's eyes.

"Oh, okay," she whispered as she eased herself out of the chair.

"Rebecca said she will catch up with us," Mercedes said as they walked out of the hotel.

Two old women, one wearing canary yellow, the other wearing black, could be seen getting out of the hotel and entering a plum Rolls-Royce that pulled up in front of them.

"Good day madams, how was your function?" Chives, the driver, said.

"Quite okay Chives," Rebecca replied, Maria just sat and pursed her lips.

"I believe Lady Rebecca will be accompanying us today?" Chives who was familiar with the ladies' program from working for Mercedes for twenty years, asked.

"Yes. She will be here a minute," Mercedes replied.

Shortly afterwards, a petite woman who looked her fifties, wearing a short, green dress strutted to the car, "Sorry for the delay ladies," Rebecca flipped her fiery red hair as she got into the car.

"That's okay," Mercedes replied, "I see you visited your surgeon again."

"One can never have enough face lifts once you reach a certain age," Rebecca said, "I could up an appointment for you with my doctor Maria, he's really great."

"I told you, I have no desire to look any younger," Maria replied coolly.

Rebecca and Mercedes exchanged knowing looks, she was always like this during this week, they had tried to console her and tell her that it was not her fault but had given up by the fifth year of trying, now they just carried on like normal, and Maria liked it better like that, if it was one thing she despised, it was when people pitied her.

"So, the cafe it is?" Chives asked.

"Yes Chives," Mercedes replied.

They drove to a quaint little cafe near Barney's, the three had always gone there for Sunday brunch and it had sort of become unspoken tradition among them that the like happened all the time.

"So, did any of you hear what happened to Louisa?" Rebecca asked as they took their orders from the handsome young waiter.

"What?" Mercedes asked.

"Bill decided to file for divorce," Rebecca said scandalously, "can you imagine that? They've been married nearly thirty years and he just wakes up one day and leaves."

"What a shame," Mercedes said, hand to chest.

"Yes, and do you know what's worse?" Rebecca asked, "She's only getting a million."

"What?" Mercedes asked incredulously, "That's ridiculous."

"You don't say," Maria said unenthusiastically.

"And he's leaving her for a twenty year old!" Rebecca continued, she rambled on about men these days and Maria allowed her thoughts to travel to Greta, after Philip died, she offered to help raise Roman, who was fourteen by then, but Greta declined, adamant on raising her son alone, and now Roman was back, working as one of the executive directors at Apex Constructions. He and Maria, though close when he was younger, now barely spoke to each other anymore, it was like there was something Roman knew that he did not want Maria to know, but she did know one thing, he blamed her for his father's death, she could see it in his eyes everytime they spoke, there was a fire that was not there ten years ago. She went on to think of how little he resembled his father, though they had the same eyes, he looked very much like his mother. This led her to think of when she was going to the cemetery, and what time she would go to the Memorial Plaza, she had received the invitation about two weeks ago, and she was not sure whether she was ready to visit the place where her son had been killed just yet.

"Maria," Mercedes said besides her, "are you okay? You look off colour."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Maria replied hastily, "I think I'll just go home and rest a little, I had a long night yesterday."

Her friends nodded in understanding as she got up, "I'll call you later tonight," Rebecca said.

Maria walked down the street and entered the florists shop, "Goodmorning Mrs. Shannon," Gloria, the owner said as she saw who had come in.

"Hello Gloria," Maria replied, "do you have any orchids?"

"A fresh batch came in today," Gloria replied.

Maria nodded as she gave the young lady her credit card, one of the assistants came in with a bunch arranged in a pretty bouquet, Maria got the flowers and left the shop, she hailed a taxi and asked to be taken to the cemetery, once there, she did not have to walk for long as she reached the tombstone she had erected in memory of her son. She slowly walked up to it and read the words that were engraved there, even though she knew them by heart, she always read them everytime she came there. It read:

_In loving memory of Philip Gregory Shannon_

_July 16 1963 - September 11, 2001_

_Loving Father, Husband and Son,_

_He will forever be remembered_

_Psalm 23_

She pulled out a single orchid from the bunch and laid it gently on the tombstone, just like she had done for the past ten years.

"So, they are opening a memorial for all those that lost their lives today Philip," she said softly, "and they invited me, they said family can come if they want to today. So I guess I'll go," she whispered, "Wish me luck Phil," she said with a small smile. She placed a kiss on her hand and lay in on the tombstone before turning around to go back to the taxi she left parked at the entrance.

Halfway there, she saw Greta walking towards her, a single white rose in her hand, red rims around her eyes. She looked older than her forty four years of age, she and Philip had gotten married while young and contrary to what Maria had expected, Greta never got remarried. From the distance, Greta had also seen Maria and started to walk towards her, her once voluminous black hair had lost its volume and was mousy, she wore an old flannel shirt Maria recognised was Philip's, and had on some faded old blue jeans that hung loosely. Maria shook her head, she had stopped taking care of herself again, once they met, Maria gave her a hug.

"Hello Maria," Greta said silently.

"Hello darling," Maria said kindly, "how have you been?"

"I'm okay, I've been holding up well," she lied unconvincingly.

Maria nodded, "Do you want to... would you like to come home with me afterwards?"

Greta shook her head, "No, no, I need to get home," she replied.

"Aren't you coming to the...the memorial?" Maria asked tentatively.

Greta violently shook her head, Maria could see her faded green eyes fighting back the tears, "No, I asked Roman to go instead." She said, "How is he by the way?"

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't spoken to him since last month, when I told him he could um just take one ticket and go to the memorial," Greta replied.

Maria nodded and reached out to hold Greta's hand, "I'll speak to him if I see him today, are you sure you don't want to come over?"

Greta smiled sadly and shook her head, "No Maria, but thankyou."

Maria nodded as she dropped her hand, "But if you change your mind dear, my door is always open."

After another embrace, the two women parted ways and Maria got into the taxi and asked to be taken home.

Once at her penthouse, she slowly walked to her living room and turned on the TV, there was a reporter talking about the opening of the 9/11 Memorial Plaza. Maria sighed and put the remaining orchids on the table next to the picture of Philip. Just then, Clara walked in, carrying a tray of medicines.

"You did not take the medicines ma'am," she said in a thick Jamaican accent.

"Do I look sick to you Carla?" Maria replied, she had never really gotten round to knowing Clara's name and so called her anything that sounded close.

Clara did not reply as she put the tray of medicines in front of her boss, she walked to the orchids and proceeded to put them in a vase.

"Did anyone come for me?" Maria asked.

Clara hesitated before cautiously saying, "Your grandson, Roman, he come earlier. He said to give you this," she took out a piece of paper from her apron and put it on the tray.

Maria got the note which read:

_You will need to come to office tomorrow_

_Urgent meeting discussing shareholders_

_R.S_

Maria laughed bitterly, he could not call her secretary, better yet, he could not call her, he just decided, of all things to scratch a note and give it to the domestic to deliver to her. Roman really needed to get a grip.

"Tell Bentley to get the car ready," she said curtly, "I will be going to the Plaza, and get my ticket from my room will you?"

"Make sure you take your medicine," Clara replied.

"I know that Christy," Maria replied sourly.

Clara nodded and went to carry out her tasks, Maria increased the volume on the TV so she could hear what the reporter was saying.

The little man in the black suit had a large crowd behind him and was saying, "As you can see Arlene, the masses have already gathered here and are lining up to get into the Memorial Plaza. This place, once known as ground zero, has been transformed into a peaceful haven where those that lost their loved ones can come and visit them." He gestured to the crowd behind him, "As you know Arlene, today, the plaza is only open to direct family of the victims of 9/11 and the people you can see here could arguably be also called victims of the attacks and-"

Maria clicked the TV off and looked at her medicines, she swiftly opened the numerous bottles and took the pills all at once, downing them with a glass of water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clara walk in with an envelope in her hands. She handed it Maria and said, "Mr Bentley said he is ready whenever you are ma'am."

Maria nodded and waved her away, she slowly walked to the door and took the elevator down to the entrance where the driver, Mr. Bentley, was waiting outside a black Cadillac. He opened the door for her and went to the front of the car.

"Hello Mrs. Shannon," he said, she could see his good natured face looking at her from the rear view mirror.

"Hello Bentley, you do know where we are going?"

He nodded and slowly snaked the lush car through the streets of New York and stopped at the plaza.

At the sight of her car, one of the security guards went inside and in and in a short while, a tall, handsome black man of strong build wearing an expensive suit came out to greet her.

"Good day Mrs. Shannon," he said as he helped her out of the car, "we're glad you could make it." He said kindly as he led her through the gates.

"Hello Kevin," she replied as she placed all her metal objects in a tray that was put in front of her, once past the metal detector, she looked up to him and said, "Is it okay if..." she pointed to an old wrist watch that was in the tray, "if I could carry that with me?"

Palmer sighed and looked at war with himself for a moment before finally saying, "Okay, just for you," he said gently.

Kevin Palmer and Philip had gone to school together, and had remained the best of friends even after they both went in their different career paths, Philip going into the family business and Palmer going into the FBI, though he did not tell her, Maria knew that he obviously had become a high ranking officer as the years went by. Once in a while, he came to visit Maria and check up on her and had taken it up on himself to make sure she had a smooth entry into the Plaza.

"Thankyou," Maria replied, "it belonged to Philip."

"I thought I'd recognised it," Palmer replied, "I'll have to go back to work now."

And with that, he disappeared behind a door that said 'Personnel Only'.

Maria went through the gates and was greeted by gigantic white oak trees on either side of her as she slowly walked on the cobblestoned path that seemed to go for about two hundred yards. In the distance, a small Asian woman was holding a toddler and pointing to the sky and trees as they walked on. Behind her, Maria saw two teenagers and a man she deduced was their father, walking hand in hand, the place had an unsettling silence about it, but it was not the deathly silence Maria was expecting, instead, it was more of a serene, peaceful silence, like the whole world had held its breath, in the distance, she could hear a soft whooshing sound, like water cascading down a waterfall. She slowly walked on, taking her time as she looked around to take in her surroundings, she saw a red-breasted robin jump from tree to tree, there was a little lizard that ran up one of the trees and the soft autumn sun was overhead. The whooshing grew louder as she drew closer and a few yards ahead, the stone path stopped at two wide canyon-like pits. Maria drew closer and saw that they actually were where the twin towers had been, she walked over to one of them and saw that there was water cascading deep into the dark void that was once a world business centre. So that was what made that loud whooshing noise, Maria looked around her and saw over a hundred people around her, they all seemed to be lost in their own worlds, Maria understood how they felt, it was like it was only them in the place, each person seemed almost unaware of the fact that there were almost a thousand other people where they were. Only they and their loved ones mattered then.

Maria placed her hand on the bronze plate in front of her and saw that it had something engraved there, she lifted her hand and saw the name _Grace Saunders._ She traced her hand forwards and saw that there were rows and rows of names, the names of the 2,997 people that had lost their lives. She walked on, finger underneath the names, she wondered where Philip's name was when an old man next to her said, "If there is someone you are looking for, the directories are over there," he pointed to a nearby sectioned off place, there were a few people that had lined up there.

"Thankyou," she said softly, she looked at where the man was standing and noticed that he had left a flower where the name Grace Saunders was.

"She was my wife," the man said quietly after he saw Maria staring.

"I'm sorry," Maria whispered.

The man smiled and shook his head, "There is no need to be, I know that wherever she is, she is smiling down on me as we speak."

Maria nodded and smiled, "I will now go to look at the directory," she whispered, "Nice to meet you Mr. Saunders."

Mr. Saunders gave a firm nod as Maria went over to the directory booth, once there, she walked over to one of the electronic devices and tentatively typed the name _Philip Shannon, _a few seconds later, about fifteen Philip Shannons showed up on the screen, using her index finger, Maria traced downwards until she saw the name Philip Gregory Shannon, she clicked on the name and the directions to his name showed up on the screen. Maria took in the instructions and slowly walked to the place she was told to go to, once there she saw it; the name Philip Gregory Shannon, it was there, engraved in the bronze plate, her son's name, right between Eileen Hunter, his secretary and Mohit Patel, one of his business associates.

Maria stroked the engraved name and tried not to cry, heaving a sigh, she pulled out his wrist watch from her pocket and placed it under his name.

In the distance, somewhere in her head, or somewhere in the city, Maria could not tell, the song '_Ave Maria'_ begun to play.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A Bohemian A-Team

Behrooz looked at his bedside watch, it was exactly 11pm. He inched out of bed and went to his wardrobe, slipping on the dark hoodie and bottoms he had laid out for the night, he got his bag and padded out of his bedroom. He stopped to put on his shoes in the moonlit kitchen when a tapping on the window shattered the death like silence: he looked to his left and saw the dastardly creature, it was an owl, obviously from Keyana. Ever since she had gone to that blasted magic school, she thought it was okay to send him letters attached to owls, he had asked her to at least e-mail him, like normal people did but she would not listen. He hastily walked to the window and let the bird in, he skilfully untied the letter from the owl and allowed it to fly out. Looking at the envelope, he shoved it in his pocket and closed the window, he would read it later, tying his laces, he started for the door when someone behind him cleared their throat. He did not even have to look behind him to realise that it was his mother.

"I thought I heard a noise in the kitchen," she said quietly, he did not respond, "do you want to tell me where you're going."

"Out," he said tonelessly without facing her, he could not stand to, "I've got stuff to do."

"At eleven fifteen?" she asked.

"You don't understand mother," he said.

"Well then, make me," she turned on the kitchen light, a rough contrast from the dark, and walked up to face him, "maybe now is the time that you could make me understand why you've been acting this way, you're never home, you're always moody and do you even have any friends? Well, besides that Keyana girl you always say is in England?"

Behrooz looked at her. Ever since his father had died, she had lost the glow that always beheld her, now she looked more tired and she hardly ever laughed anymore. It was like life had taken a dip for the worst; at school, Behrooz had been bullied. No one would talk to him, anyway, who would talk to someone like him? And until recently, he had always just kept to himself, he was used to the scared glances that he got from a few people today, but he did not care anymore.

"I'll see you later mother," he said after some time.

"But son-"

"Tomorrow, mother," he said, and he walked out of the door before she could stop him. He climbed down the stairs and out of the apartment complex and got into the car that had been waiting for him for the past five minutes.

"What took you so long?" Finn asked as he got in.

"Just mom stuff," he replied as he made himself comfortable.

He looked around the car; there was Tamwar Farid, Simon Jones, TeShawn Martin, Jenny Chu and Finn at the wheel. They were his group of 'friends', calling themselves The Bohemian A-Team, they went around the streets of New York and graffiti tagged any building they thought would call attention.

"Do you have the paints?" Jenny asked, she had a deep voice for a girl.

"In my bag," Behrooz replied, "what's the target?"

"Three guesses, the first one's right," Finn said with a smile as they drove out of Grove street.

Behrooz smirked, he knew just what he was thinking, of course that place had been on the news the whole day today, so it would be the perfect place to leave their signature. The drive to the building was not long, quickly pulling on their masks, they climbed out the car, each with a can of spray paint. They worked fast sneaking to the back walls, each working on a small piece of their 'masterpiece', Behrooz, being the best artist of them, taking the centre piece. Behrooz was halfway with his piece when a bright light blinded his vision. He instantly dropped his can and shielded his eyes, he heard Simon shout 'Run!' and he followed that. The six teenagers sprinted into a nearby alley and Behrooz could hear footsteps hot and heavy on their trail, he turned the nearest corner and felt a heavy blow to his head and fell to the ground, the moonlit sky disappearing from his vision.

There was a bright white light. Then there were a few beeps. The light came back once again, then it all went black for a time. Behrooz tried to open his eyes and struggled to do so until he succeeded. Looking around him, he saw that he was in a room that had two rows of beds facing each other, there were lines of fluorescent tubes on the ceiling that lit the room with a cold, sickening white light. Behrooz tried to get up from where he was lying and found that his hand was being restricted, he looked to his right and for the first time noticed somebody sitting at his bedside. It was a young looking woman, probably in her mid-twenties; she had on an expensive looking grey suit and had her auburn hair done in a perfect bun. Next to her stood a tall, tough looking man.

"I see you're finally awake," she said calmly.

"Who are you and why am I cuffed to this bed?" Behrooz demanded.

"My name's Priscilla VanHorne , I've been assigned to be your lawyer for your case," she replied calmly, she opened her shiny suitcase and removed her file, "it says here that last night you went and vandalised a building, and that you are a first time offender, we're quite lucky here Mr Ali, your first scratch and you're still underage, so we can expect maybe just a few weeks in the detention centre, which, by the way, you are in right now, you're just at the facility hospital," she said to him, nodding to his cuffed arm.

Behrooz was going to answer him but was cut off by a nurse who has just walked in. she headed for his bed and checked him, "Your vitals are good, you're back to normal," the Korean lady said in a kind voice, "You took a pretty nasty blow to the head."

"Does that mean we can move him from here now?" VanHorne asked.

"Yes, we can," the nurse replied, "could you give us a minute to get him changed?"

The lawyer walked out of the room and Behrooz was helped into his clothes by the nurse. He noticed that he was not given his own clothes, instead, he now had on blue overalls and a white T-Shirt, _probably the inmates' uniforms,_ he thought. Escorted by the man, whom he deduced was the warden, he walked out of the ward and met his new lawyer outside in the waiting room.

"I see you're all dressed now, let's get started, your friends have already met with their lawyers," she said as they walked the dull grey corridors.

"So they were also caught," he mumbled thoughtfully.

"No one can escape the long hand of the law," VanHorne said, "but you can try your best to evade it with help from someone like me," she added, darkly chuckling at her own joke.

Behrooz did not find it funny and so did not laugh, "So, why are you handling me alone? We did the same crime and I understand that…since I have no money, and…well looking at you, you must be a pro bono lawyer or something so you must handle all of us," he said, trying to recall some of his knowledge from some courtroom dramas he had seen on TV.

"Your friends are multiple time offenders," she replied as they walked into an empty room, it was painted the same dull shade of grey as the rest of the place and was empty except for a table in the middle with a chair at either side of it, "So they have their own social workers and parole officers on their case, and besides, it doesn't work that way, everyone is entitled to the right of an attorney. Take a seat." She said as the warden closed the door and left the two of them alone.

Behrooz wondered at this as he sat down, none of them had mentioned about parole officers or anything of the sort. He had no clue that they were already registered delinquents.

"So," she started as she took out a tape recorder, "let's start from the beginning shall we?"

Behrooz looked at the machine blankly.

She sighed and then said, "How did this whole thing start, we are trying to come up with a defence for you Behrooz."

"Okay," he said, "I went to tag a building with my friends, we do it every time, any time we feel like actually…it's fun, you should try it sometime."

"Behrooz, we need to work together on this," she said with a patience that made him sick, "is there any reason you did this? Were you made to do it? Were you threatened by someone, this is your first offence and this behaviour does not fit your profile-"

"What do you mean 'does not fit your profile'?" Behrooz sneered, imitating her tone.

"What I'm saying here is…I took some time to look at your past records," she said, "could anything have triggered this? Maybe your father-"

"Don't!" Behrooz stopped her mid-way, "Don't you dare bring my father in this, I told you that I felt like tagging a building and so I went ahead and did it, what's so hard about that."

"What's so hard about that Behrooz is that with your attitude, you could be handed two years in here by the judge, and I'm trying to help you."

"By interrogating me about my personal life?" he asked.

"I'm your lawyer-"

"Exactly, not my shrink!" he said.

She took a pause and breathed in before continuing, "Behrooz, I've been with kids like you all the time, and I underst-"

"You understand." Behrooz scoffed, "Now let me tell you something little miss lawyer. First of all, let me see, you're obviously from a good family, father in a high government post, the senate maybe-"

"Mr Ali-"

"I'm not done yet," he cut her off, "You probably went to perfect little rich kids schools, graduated at the top of the class did you not? Let's see, Ivy League scholar you were yeah, studying to help the _less fortunate_?" he asked, she did not reply.

He continued, "How much did you buy that suit you have on?" she uncomfortably tugged at the hem of her skirt under the table, Behrooz carried on, "A thousand, maybe two? And those pearls, a gift from Daddy huh?"

"You have no right to-"

"No, you have no right to prance in here singing that you've worked with my kind and so you understand what I'm going through!" he said, "What, so because we are all from broken homes, probably grew up in rough neighbourhoods and did a few crimes that we are all the same?" he laughed bitterly, "Remember 9/11? Yeah of course you do, my father was killed, but not by those attacks, but by '_patriots_' who beat him to death in an alley, and do you know why? Because he looked like this," he pointed at himself, "I was seven. My mother was an informal violin teacher, she lost whatever was left of her job, you know why? I'll let you guess. I had to move schools every few months, we lived on food stamps for ages and I learnt to fight for what was rightfully mine! So don't you _dare_ come up here saying that you understand what it is I'm going through, you would never know. People like me, people like the kids all trapped in here, yeah, we live just under the upper hand and go crazy over whatever leftovers are thrown to us. You would never understand."

Priscilla sat at her end of the table and looked at him, she was lost for words, she could feel the blood rushing up her neck but willed it to stay where it was.

"Understood," she mumbled, taking her tape recorder and throwing it in her suitcase, "I'll have the warden take you back to your cell, trial's at nine sharp, be early, you will be brought along with the rest of the kids facing trial."

With that, she quickly left the room and shut the door behind her. Behrooz traced his tattoo of an angel that was on his wrist, the warden soon came in, it was the same big, burly man with a uniform that looked two sizes too small, he coughed at Behrooz and when he got up, led him to his cell.

It was a dull grey room with a wiry bunk bed that had the same dull grey blankets.

"No roommate yet," the warden said, "your lucky day. Get in," before he could get in, the warden said, "this was found in your pants, we screened it, it seems harmless."

Behrooz got his letter and got in his cell, the man locked him in and left, Behrooz took the bottom bunk and lay on it.

The tube above him shone like the one in the hospital ward, but this one had a duller quality and kept on coming on and off frequently.

Behrooz got the letter and saw that the envelope had already been opened, _nosy bastards_, he thought as he got his letter out. Even though he was sick of the owl deliveries, it seemed that Keyana's letters were some of the only things that he genuinely looked forward to these days.

Unfurling the weird paper she always used, he opened it to see, it read:

_Dear Behrooz,_

_What's good? I'm alright, just trying to get as much as I can before the N.E. come and do me in. I'm sorry I could not come home this summer, but my granddad insisted I stay here so that I could get a summer internship with the Ministry, I'm seriously considering becoming an auror- remember, that's like the magical FBI or police._

_Mom told me that you were considering not going to college? I forbid you to do that, you need to get your act together dude, I saw your high school GPA and the art colleges offering you scholarships this spring, just go, please? So, how's life with the Bohemians? That's what you guys are called right? I hope you don't get in trouble though, otherwise that would not be so good for your record._

_How's your mum? I really hope she's alright, I heard that she fell ill for some time over the summer, I hope you are taking care of her, like for real if you aren't, I will come and curse your bits off myself._

_Oh yeah, do you remember that guy Teddy Lupin, the one who was my internship supervisor last summer who I had the world's hugest crush on? Well he got married over the weekend. Boo! I couldn't go but one of my mates, a cousin to the girl he was marrying, was given a pass and she said it was amazing!_

_Oh yeah, that reminds me, granddad says that one of the girls, the one related to Harry Potter, she will be coming over there to work at the Ministry there, well, that's if she accepts the offer. Rumour has it that she's sort of bonkers, sort of dipped into la-la land because of one thing or the other, but she's a talented auror who quit her job to work for Malfoy- yuck! By the way, Malfoy is some man whose family helped Voldemort- the evil wizard that Harry Potter defeated. Anyway, I still think he's a bad man and she's his personal assistant, but like I said, she's bonkers!_

_Anyway, she'll be moving in with mum and so you'll be like next door neighbours, I don't expect you to be best friends, but I just wanted to give you a heads up that there will be another witch in the building._

_The midnight bell just rang, which means I should get ready for Astronomy now, I'll owl this to you soon as I can. But for now, goodbye and take care._

_Love,_

_Ana._

Behrooz read the letter over and over again in the bad light and chuckled darkly at the irony of receiving the message of staying out of trouble while he was in a cell. But aside from that, he was still glad that he had heard from her. _Ana,_ that was what she started calling herself ever since she went, and he noticed that she had fallen prey toBritish slang from about three years ago. She was now in her final year and had to sit for exams called newts or something, first it was exams called owls and now newts? Sometimes Behrooz could not believe that he talked about these things with her without sounding like he was insane. Or was he?

He put the letter away and propped his hands behind his head, making something somewhat like a pillow for him, he had no watch but made a wild guess that it was probably right before 5am. This gave him about three hours to sleep before he stood in front of the court for the first time in his life. Closing his eyes, he fell into a troubled sleep involving his mother crying and blaming him for everything that went wrong in their lives.

Priscilla curtly nodded at the guard at the front gate before bursting out. She had just recently graduated from Law school and had declined her father's offer to join his firm. Instead, she had gone into the Office of the Public Defender and had been given her first case a little after midnight today. She had been packing up her files and getting ready to go home when Stella, the director, poked her head in and said.

"You busy? Didn't think so," she slapped a thin file on her desk, "congratulations, your first case. He's a first time offender currently being housed at the Pendlehouse correction centre for juvenile delinquents, if I were you, I'd get there now. "

Priscilla nodded slowly, she was slightly annoyed at having to start going to see her client at this hour, but this was her first job and she was excited about it in a way. She drove to the place expecting to find an easy case, she knew the ropes theoretically, and it was all the same. These children always had bad pasts and she had already designed a bluff about telling them how experienced she was if they questioned her, but this boy seemed to see right through her, and her plan fell through.

So, here she was, driving to the office in her blue sedan, knowing she had a few hours before the trial and she and her client had not come up with anything.

The hours passed by quicker than she expected and soon enough they were in the courtroom. Priscilla looked to her client who sat on a bench that was on the other side of the aisle, while she was on the other. His friends' trials were short and to the point, each being given between 6 months to 2 years in the delinquents centre.

The Bench Clerk stood up and announced the next case, "The city of Manhattan against Behrooz Ali on one count of vandalism," immediately; Priscilla stood up, and motioned for Behrooz to do the same.

"Another one?" the magistrate growled, "And who's representing the defendant?"

"That will be me Your Honour," Priscilla spoke up.

The magistrate flipped through Behrooz's file in an ill-tempered manner, "It says here that he's a first time offender."

"That's right Your Honour," she replied.

"Boy," he took off his glasses and pointed them at Behrooz, who had been glaring at the man the whole time, "care to explain yourself?"

Behrooz just looked down, behind him, Priscilla could see his mother sobbing into a black woman's shoulder, she had spoken to her earlier before the trial begun and she seemed like such a lovely woman whose features had been worn out due to hard life.

The magistrate grunted, "I've no time for this, 3 months at the Hope Rehabilitation centre for Troubled Teens plus five hours of community service a day for the next six months." With that, he banged his gavel and barked that the session had been dismissed.

Priscilla quickly followed her client out of the courtroom as soon as the magistrate had left.

"That was better than I imagined," she said, trying to keep a bright face.

"My trial's over, you're dismissed," he said coldly, "isn't that what's supposed to happen?"

Priscilla looked away, from the corner of her eye, she could see his mother walking up towards them, "I'll leave you alone for a while," she said nodding to him. She gave a signal to the guard to let her know when they were done.

Priscilla walked down the hallway and turned into a corridor, there must be a vending machine here somewhere. She hadn't had anything to eat since the previous day and her stomach was beginning to complain.

Navigating her way around the courthouse, she finally found a vending machine at the very end of one of the corridors. A lady wearing a royal blue suit and a hat was bent over the machine, as if trying to get something. Priscilla walked there and stopped dead in her tracks when the lady's features became more and more familiar: the red hair peeking out of the hat, the blue eyes that had been pulled and the face that had been lifted one too many times in an effort of youth.

Priscilla had no time to turn back and run when her grandmother called to her, "Princess!" she said, strutting towards the unwilling lawyer.

"Gran Rebecca," she gasped, "what are you doing here?"

"Here for Louise's trial I suppose," her grandmother replied, "she's getting a divorce, so I'm here for moral support."

Priscilla gave a knowing smile, her grandmother was there for anything but moral support, probably getting the first hand gossip was her first priority.

"Anyway," she continued, "I would ask you the same thing, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here on my first case, I'm actually defending a young man," Priscilla explained, "though the trial's over now." She fumbled with the sweets she pulled out of the machine.

"Oh yeah, your father told me you had rejected his offer to join his firm," Rebecca commented, "though personally, I think it's an utter waste of your youth and beauty to work yourself into the ground. How about that young man, Alistair? He seems like a fine young man."

Priscilla inwardly groaned, she knew that it was both her mother and grandmother's dream to see her get married, mother at least 2 children and spend the rest of her days gossiping at the Primrose Country Club with them.

"Look grandmother, I uh, I need to go and check on my client now," she found a way to escape, "thank you for...the advice."

"Anytime darling, and remember, if you ever need anything, you can always call me." Her phone beeped, she took it out and glanced at it, "Oh no, dear old Mr Bentley has been rushed to the hospital," she gasped.

Priscilla recognised Mr Bentley, he was Great-Aunt Maria's driver, had been for over 20 years- he was really kind and friendly, he was now in hospital? Wait…how old was he?

"I am so sorry," Priscilla whispered.

"I need to go and see Maria now, she must be in a state," all thoughts about Louis and Bill's divorce trial were gone, "he's her best friend, you know."

"Send my regards." Priscilla said.

Her grandmother nodded and turned on her heel, Priscilla opened her packet of sweets and picked out one. It was a blue one, she always had reservations about blue jelly beans ever since childhood, it just did not seem right to her. Throwing it in the waste bin nearby, she pulled out another colour and popped it in her mouth.

By the time she found her way back to her courtroom, the jelly beans were long gone. Behrooz sat on a bench outside the courtroom, he was talking to an Indian man Priscilla did not recognise. As she approached them, the man stood up and nodded to her.

"Hello, my name's Francis Ramesh,ellH" he said as he shook her hand, "I've been assigned to be Mr Ali's social worker."

"Nice to meet you Mr Ramesh," Priscilla replied, "I'm his lawyer-"

"Yes, I know who you are," the man said good-naturedly, "I was actually waiting for you, we have some things to discuss, I found an empty office we could use."

The warden who was with Behrooz led him away after Ramesh said he would talk to him later and the two went to the room that the latter had mentioned earlier.

"Now I talked to his mother and it seems that our young man has had quite a past," Ramesh started as soon as they sat down, "he himself does not want to talk about it, which I clearly understand."

"Go on."

"Well, I don't think that Behrooz is an aggressive type, this is his first time doing anything like this and he himself seems to be a decent young man." The man paused to take a deep breath, "I was thinking that maybe some kind of counselling or seeing professional help would really do him good."

"Well, you are his social worker, and so that's in your jurisdiction now isn't it?" she asked.

Ramesh sighed, "It's a whole lot more complicated than that. The boy refuses any kind of help whatsoever."

"You've only known him an hour."

"Which, for someone in my field, is as good as ten years." Ramesh replied.

"So, what do you suggest we do?"

"The judge talked about community service," Ramesh offered, "well, I've had a few cases like this in my day and I've found that the best way to get them to open up is not to lock them up or make them feel like they are criminals."

"I am not following," Priscilla was shaking her head.

"Well, most of the jobs involving community service is things like cleaning the streets and the like, he will only be exposed to worse, and I don't want that to happen, I've talked to him, and he seems like a smart boy," Ramesh leaned closer, "that's where I am going to be needing your help."

"What?"

"I've done my fair share of homework to know that you happen to have some good connections," Ramesh explained, "we find him a job, nothing special, but something that can count as community service and that way, we keep him away from the dangers of the streets. He's a good child, I've worked in this field long enough and I've witnessed many of our youth coming into our facilities and getting out worse than they actually were, I don't want that happening to Behrooz."

Priscilla was sceptical, "Are you sure about this?"

"I've read through all the books, there's no law against it." He replied.

Priscilla nodded, "Okay, I'll try to see what I can do."

"Thank you," Ramesh said as he shook her hand, "here's my card in case anything comes up."

Priscilla nodded and took the card, the man shook her hand once more and left the room, leaving her alone to study the card. The cogs were already spinning in Priscilla's head and she was coming up with a plan.

Taking out her phone, she dialled a number she never once dreamed she would willingly dial.

The phone on the other side rang for a few seconds until the voice mail recording finally played.

"Hello grandmother Rebecca," Priscilla said, "do you remember that conversation an hour ago about me calling should I ever need anything? Well…."


End file.
